


Crown of Sylleblossoms

by ThinkingCAPSLOCK



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Study, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkingCAPSLOCK/pseuds/ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: Memories float and linger in her mind, of a time long past, a time much different. But Lunafreya remains, and she has a job to do.





	Crown of Sylleblossoms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Lunafreya Zine, "Shedding Grace". Such an amazing project I am proud to have been part of.

_Lunafreya's legs dangle off the chair, her sandaled feet not quite touching the ground. She watches Queen Sylva in the mirror, her worn hands wrestling out the last tangles in Lunafreya's hair. She'd already received a scolding for rolling around in the woods, getting knots and brambles in her hair, staining her new white dress. But her mother never remains angry, and her hands are gentle as she begins braiding. She hums a familiar lullaby under her breath._

_"There, now," Queen Sylva's voice is melodic, always firm. "You're looking much more like yourself now, dear."_

_Lunafreya is: her bangs swept to the side, her hair nearly pulled out of her face. She grins at her mother in the mirror. Her mother grins back, all her stately appearance melting into joy. Lunafreya giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Queen Sylva's smile only gets wider._

_They watch each other for a moment, blue eyes meeting blue, Lunafreya studying the familiar angles of her mother's face. There's tightness to her eyes, even while smiling, and Lunafreya knows it's because of the tensions in the world. The problems with Nifelheim, the relations with Lucis. She's too young to know all the details, but she knows enough to see the burden. She knows one day it will be hers to handle._

_"Mother, what does it mean to be a good queen?" The question pops out of her mouth before she realizes, and the blink of surprise on her face is reflected on her mother's. Queen Sylva shifts, crouching in front of Lunafreya. One wrinkled hand caresses her face, her thumb rubbing circles into her cheek._

_"There's a lot of things that make a good queen. But one is more important, Lunafreya. One thing that sits above all others." She leans in close, voice quiet, turning her head to share a secret that only they'll know. "It's-"_

Lunafreya wakes up. 

The dream, the memory, lingers: she can almost feel her mother's touch, the braids in her hair, the dirt caked under her nails. But none of those are here, not now. Her days of carefree wandering are gone. Her mother is gone, too. 

But she remains, and she has a job to do. 

The castle hasn't changed much since she was a girl, yet, at the same time, has changed completely. Halls once full of bubbling laughter, of cheerful aids and political intrigue, stand empty. Instead of a cool, ever-flowing breeze, the air is stifling, the windows closed and the curtains drawn. She sees the flower vase she and Ravus broke as children that her mother painstakingly glued back together, an heirloom of the Fleurets stretching back generations. Covered in dust, a cobweb draping across it to the wall. There are no flowers in it now. There haven't been in years.

It's not the only reminder of her mother: tapestries her mother commissioned, hung on the walls herself, cursing words Lunafreya had been shocked to hear as she fails to hang it straight for the third time. The silver framed mirrors that Queen Sylva had loved to litter the halls with. Her favourite window seat, with a view of the entire estate, the cushions a worn blue velvet. There was always enough room if Lunafreya wanted to join, to curl up with a book or story, her mother's eyes dancing in the morning light as- 

Lunafreya stumbles, catching herself on the wall, her knees shaking, her breaths short and hollow. She hadn't realized how deep she'd been in the memory, how clenched and pained her heart is. But she's almost made it to the doors, almost escaped the prison that was once her home. A few more steps, that's all.

She doesn't relax until she's well clear of the castle, until the smells of nature fill her lungs, until her memories evaporates under the clear morning sunshine. She feels it warm her, from the top of her head, hair braided by her own hands, to the tips of her sandaled toes. She stretches her hands above her, taking a deep breath. Her chest settles. Her mind clears.

She goes to the garden.

It sprawls a patch of land as large as the castle itself, the flowers filling the air with sweet scents and petals. Lunafreya stands on the edge, overlooking the sea of blue, the sylleblossoms that represent her family, her home. They ripple in the wind, stirring like waves of water, each plant with a mind of its own. 

She steps forwards, kneels down, and gets to work.

There's pruning to be done, dead leaves to be removed from even the strongest of flowers, water to be given where the rain didn't quite hit. Weeds litter the ground - dirt stains her nails and arms as she digs them out. Sweat forms on her brow, and she wipes it with the back of her hand, and soon her face is as dirty as her knees and feet. She talks to the plants: about her days, about the world, about the weather and the books she's read, about Pryna and Umbra's - and Noctis' - antics. She laughs as the breeze pushes flowers against her, as her fingers are tickled by slugs and flies and worms. The hours pass overhead, the sun beating down on her skin. The work is hard, but the reward... the reward is worth it. 

After a particularly large weed patch, Lunafreya straightens, shielding her eyes with her hand to examine what remains. She's almost done, and everything looks good so far. Perhaps she'll head in early. Just as she lowers her hand, she catches something in the corner of her eye: a single sylleblossom, shriveling up, caught in the shadow of a small hill.

It's only a few steps away, and she's careful as she walks, murmuring thanks to the plants for bending away from her feet. The flower, close up, is much sadder than the rest: wilting, forlorn, a paler blue than the healthy ones beside it. She cups it in her hand, gentle but firm. Others might leave it, might pluck it and see no hope for it. But that is not Lunafreya's way.

It is not how she was taught.

_"It's love." Queen Sylva kisses Lunafreya on the forehead, her smile spreading, smoothing the tension in her shoulders and eyes. "Love for the world around you. Love for the people most important to you. Love for the smallest of plants, the highest of mountains, the sky above. Love outlasts all hardships, Lunafreya. Love can heal all wounds. If you have compassion and love, my dear, you will be a good queen. That I promise you."_

_Her mother starts to pull back, but Lunafreya leans forward, wrapping her arms around Queen Sylva's neck, burying her face into her mother's dress. A laugh sounds above her as Queen Sylva hugs her back, tight and warm. She smells like sylleblossoms. Like home._

_"I love you, Mother," Lunafreya whispers._

_"I love you too, my dearest Lunafreya."_

Lunafreya draws on the power of the Oracle, the power of her mother before her, and heals the flower. She fills it with her love: love of the garden, love of nature, the love of her home and the sanctuary the garden provides. The world is still out there, with all its danger and strife, but in the moment, there is only her, her love, and the beautiful flower that comes to life between her fingers. 

She straightens again, trying to brush dirt off her dress, but only succeeding in spreading it even more. She looks up at the sky, a sea of blue like the one beneath her, and she smiles. Up there, somewhere, Queen Sylva is looking down. From up there, she sends her love. 

Lunafreya sends hers back.

With one last look at the sylleblossoms, one last deep breath, one last memory of her mother's kiss and touch, Lunafreya starts back towards the castle. Perhaps she'll open the windows, or clean the tapestries. Perhaps she'll get some flowers for the vase. Or, perhaps, she'll spend her afternoon in the window seat, braiding her hair, and planning what she needs for the garden next.

**Author's Note:**

> [Shedding Grace Twitter](https://twitter.com/LunafreyaZine) for more amazing entries and fics!  
> [my writing twitter](https://twitter.com/mocaw_) for more writing central WIPs!  
> [my fandom twitter](https://twitter.com/tamocch) for more yelling about video games.


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